AN ESCAPE FOR BOB.
"SO you went on Tittlebrat," repeated Bob, as he walked down Fleet
Street with Tom after he had recovered from the fainting fit into which
he had been thrown by the news.
Bob was wishing more than ever that he had not been laughed out of
his principles, for if he had only been firm in holding fast to his
Sunday-school, this certainly would not have happened to him, for
betting had no temptation for him, until he had given this up and tried
to do as the rest did.
"Where did you get the news about Tittlebrat?" he asked, rather
ruefully, as they walked along.
"Oh! A friend of mine told me about it," answered Tom.
"Well, you knew I was going to put all my money on the other, you might
have given me a hint about this," said Bob in a reproachful tone. "I
wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for mother's shawl, but I've been
saving my overtime money for that all the summer, and she will be vexed
when she knows I've just been and thrown it all away; and the way I've
lost it will be worse than all to her."
Tom felt sorry, but he was not in the mood to take the blame of Bob's
disaster. "Wasn't you all dead-set on Warrior?" he said.
"Well, that may be, but still, if I'd got to know that another horse
was sure to win, I would have given you and the other chaps a hint
about how the land lay," answered Bob in the same reproachful tone.
"Well, I had to pay for my tip. Business is business, you know."
But Bob could not help feeling hurt at what he regarded a gross breach
of friendship on the part of Tom, for he knew well enough that if the
case had been reversed, he would have given his own particular friends
no peace until they had put their money on the horse he considered was
sure to win.
It was a revelation to the lad when Tom went on to speak of it as
business, where everyone was bound to consider themselves first.
"Well, if friends ain't to be friends in this, I'd like to know what
the good of it is, and if that's the way racing is to be looked at,
I'll take good care I never have any more to do with it."
Poor Bob went home almost heart-broken over the loss of his mother's
shawl, for so sure had he felt that he should win what he had risked,
and a considerable sum besides, that he had arranged with her to go
with him to buy it early the following week; and it would be hard to
tell which had looked forward to it with the greatest pleasure, Bob or
his mother.
Now for him to go home and have to tell her that the thin old shawl
would have to be worn through another winter was bitter indeed to the
lad, for he had begun to think he might be able to add a bonnet to the
shawl, and then they might both go to church on Sunday. If anyone had
told them that this bitter disappointment was the greatest blessing
that could be bestowed upon Bob just now, they would scarcely have
believed it, for the widow had already told some of her neighbours what
her son Bob was going to buy for her Christmas present, and now to hear
that he had no money left was a sad blow to her.
His mother was ironing when Bob went home, for she was a widow and
maintained herself by laundry-work. She turned to him with a smile of
greeting as he came in, but the boy's white face made her put down her
iron and she asked him, in some consternation, what had happened.
"Have you lost your place?" she asked, for nothing short of this she
thought could account for Bob's downcast looks.
"Worse than that, mother," said Bob, with a half suppressed sob; "I've
lost your shawl."
"Lost my shawl! Bless the boy, it ain't bought yet," replied Mrs.
Ronan, with a puzzled look on her face.
"No, mother, I've lost the money, though, that was to buy it."
"But I thought you told me last week that it was your overtime money,
and that you'd put it in the Post Office to take care of. Surely that
ain't gone and bust up like the banks do sometimes?"
Bob wished it had just then. Anything would be easier than to tell his
mother he had taken it out to bet on horse-racing, for she had warned
him against this only a few weeks before.
She had heard nothing of the matter since, and so she supposed that he
had kept his promise, and had given up all games of chance as she had
begged he would.
To hear therefore that he had drawn out all this little store of money
to bet on the races was a cruel blow to her, and she dropped in her
chair as though she had been shot when she heard it.
"Oh, mother, don't cry," said Bob, bursting into tears himself, and
trying to draw her apron down from her eyes. "Don't, mother, don't," he
pleaded.
But the poor woman felt too heart-broken to dry her tears at once, and
for a few minutes the two cried together.
"Oh, Bob, I have been so proud of you," she managed to say at last; "I
have told everybody what a good, steady lad you were, never giving me
any trouble, but always ready to give me a helping hand with a basket
of clothes when you came home, and never spending any of your money
on yourself, but just saving up your overtime money to buy me a warm
shawl for the winter. And then for you to tell me you've just been and
done the very thing I asked you not to do. Oh dear, oh dear! What will
happen next?"
And the poor woman burst into a fresh flood of tears over the downfall
of her hopes in her only son.
"Mother, you'll just break my heart if you go on like that," sobbed
Bob; "say you'll forgive me, and I'll never bet on horses again, and
I'll never play pitch-and-toss any more, and I'll go to evening-school
and see if I can't learn to write better, and do sums quicker."
Bob knew how anxious his mother was for him to go to Sunday-school
again, but hitherto, he had resisted all her persuasions for fear his
companions at the warehouse should find out that he had gone back,
after telling them he had left.
To hear, therefore, that Bob would conquer his pride and the fear of
his companions' ridicule made the poor woman more hopeful for her boy's
future. "Not that I'm the only one you've grieved, Bob," said Mrs.
Ronan, wiping her eyes and looking straight at her son. "I hope you
don't forget that you've grieved God a good deal more than you have me,
badly as I feel about it."
Bob hung his head and did not reply. He had not thought of his fault
in this light at all, but as his mother spoke, he recalled what he had
often heard at school—about the unfairness, and the selfishness that
all games of chance lead people to commit, and he remembered how he had
complained of Tom Flowers not telling him how he might have avoided
losing his money.
"I see, mother," he said slowly, "people who gamble and bet can't do
to others as they would have others do to them. That's what Tom said
to-day, when I grumbled because he didn't tell me all he knew about
these races. He said everyone must be for himself in this, and look
after the main chance."
"Yes, I suppose so, and the Lord Jesus Christ says, If anyone will be
My disciple let him deny himself, which is just the opposite of what
these racing people say."
"But I wouldn't have served Tom Flowers as he served me," protested
Bob, in some indignation.
"Perhaps not just at first, but I daresay you would have come to it
by-and-by; for what the Lord Jesus taught us as the golden rule of
conduct between us and our neighbours—to do unto others as we would
wish them to do to us if we were in their place, is quite impossible
in all gambling and betting. You can see this for yourself. You say
this Tom is a nice friendly lad, and yet he never told you what he had
heard to save you from losing your money. Don't you see, that those who
win must do so at the expense of those who lose; all cannot win, and,
therefore, your gain must mean loss to somebody else, and so you profit
by robbing another of his money—it is little better than robbery,"
concluded Mrs. Ronan.
"I see, mother," said Bob, humbly, "and if it wasn't for your shawl, I
should feel rather glad that I hadn't won, for I should wonder now who
had lost the money I had got."
"Thank God you didn't win, for if you had, you would never have thought
about it perhaps, but only got into the habit of wanting and spending
money, until this betting became a habit too, and then whatever money
you might win, would cause you to be a ruined lad—ruined in body and
soul, so I can thank God for the loss of my shawl, since it may be the
means of saving my boy," said the widow.
"And you think the game of pitch-and-toss is as bad as betting?" said
Bob, but it was more in the way of confession than asking a question.
What his mother said had so touched him, that he thought he had better
make a clean breast of it, and let his mother know the worst at once,
though it would grieve her, he knew, to hear how every consideration of
right and wrong had been given up since he left the Sunday-school.
"Oh, Bob, you know as well as I do, that pitch-and-toss is only
gambling. Didn't you see some boys taken up by the police for playing
at this game only last week. Oh, my boy, my boy, I little dreamed—"
And here the widow's tears choked her voice, and she put her arms about
her boy's neck, and they cried together for a few minutes again.
But at last Bob said, "Mother, I'll never do it again, I promise you.
Ask God to forgive me, and—and—"
"Let us kneel down together and ask Him to forgive you for the past,
and to help you keep the promise you have just made to me. Without
His help you will fall again, even though you do go to Sunday-school.
Don't forget that, Bob, it must be in God that you trust, not your
school or your teacher. Now let us ask God for this," and together they
kneeled down, and the widow poured out her trouble before God, but did
not forget to thank Him that her boy had been stopped in his downward
course.
And then she prayed that if there were any among his companions who had
been led away by his bad example, they, too, might be brought back to
the path of right, even though the way back should be painful to tread.
The widow did not know why she was led to pray thus, and certainly
did not know how greatly poor, foolish Tom Flowers needed her prayers
just then. But she did know how one boy's example influences another,
and she thought it might be possible that Bob had thus helped to lead
another boy astray, by his bad example at least.
When they rose from their knees, Bob said, "I think I should like you
to tell teacher all about it, mother. He ought to know before I go back
to school, but I shouldn't like to tell him."
"Very well, you go round to the school presently, he will be there
to-night, and ask him to come in and see me."
Bob hardly liked to go upon this errand, but his mother said he must,
and so after tea he went, looking very sheepish as he went into the
school, where so many of his old companions were gathered now.
"Well, Bob, have you come back to us again?" said his teacher, when he
saw him.
"I'm coming, sir, but I'd like you to see mother first, if you wouldn't
mind coming in to speak to her as you go home."
"You haven't lost your place, I hope, Bob," said the gentleman,
noticing the boy's serious looks.
"No, sir, it's nothing about my place," said Bob; "but mother wants to
see you before I come back to Sunday-school."
"Well, I'm glad you're coming back," said the gentleman. "I'll come in
as I go home."
Bob contrived to be out of the way when his teacher came in, that his
mother might have her talk with him alone. But he kept his promise and
went to school on Sunday, and also joined several of the classes held
on week evenings for the improvement of those who desired to continue
their education.
Bob determined to apply himself to arithmetic and writing, for he
had seen by the way in which Tom Flowers had been chosen for office
work, that if he was to rise and be a help and comfort to his mother
by-and-by, he must strive to improve himself in this, and in reading
and spelling too.
Mrs. Ronan was well pleased to see that Bob was determined to turn over
a new leaf entirely as to his conduct. But as he sat at tea a few days
later, she thought she would give him a word of caution to be careful,
and not to forget to ask God's help for the future.
"I'm not likely to forget what a fool I have been while that shabby old
shawl hangs there," said Bob. "I'd a good mind to sell my great-coat
yesterday, for I hate to see you go out in that old shawl this bitter
cold weather." And he looked at his mother to see how she took this
proposal about the coat.
"I should have been very cross if you had sold the coat. You will have
to bear the sight of the old shawl as a lesson, though I don't mind it
a bit now," she added.
"That don't make up to me for the shawl, though," said Bob, with a sigh.
"Perhaps not to you, but if I see you working steadily at these school
lessons, I shall feel proud of you yet, Bob, though you did take me
down a peg or two over that shawl I'll not deny. For I had counted on
it, and told Mrs. Hooper about it, and we had discussed what the shawl
should be, until I felt almost as though I had been robbed when you
came and told me I could not have it."
Bob sighed. "Poor mother, I was sorry to have to come home and tell you
about it. I had some thought of running away instead of coming home
that night, for I didn't know how I was to tell you what a fool I had
been."
"That would have been mending matters with a vengeance," said Mrs.
Ronan, with a scared look in her face that such a thought could enter
her boy's head. "Why, what do you think I should have done then if you
had gone?"
"I suppose I was thinking more about having to tell you and how I could
get out of it," admitted Bob frankly.
"Yes, how you could shirk being made uncomfortable by what you had
done. That is the reason most people run away from their duty, and,
like the cowards they are, care nothing for the trouble and grief they
cause their friends. I am glad you were brave enough to come and tell
me all about it. We have both had to suffer some pain, but it may be a
useful lesson to us both, and I feel sure now I shall be as proud as
ever of my boy, in spite of what has happened."
"So you shall, mother," said Bob heartily, "I mean to stick to
Sunday-school now I have begun again, and I mean to try my hardest at
the writing and arithmetic, so that I may get a rise some day, and save
you from working so hard at the washtub."
"Well, of course, I shall be glad for you to get on, my boy, but I
want to see if you can't do something to induce your friends at the
warehouse to give up all gambling games."
"Ah! That's easier said than done," said Bob, with something of a sigh
as he rose from the tea table. "You see, if you ain't in the swim with
the rest you're just nowhere, and that's where I am now. They've found
out that I have gone back to school, and as I don't join in any of the
games, they take care not to let me know what is going on among them.
That was just how it was I had to join in with them before. A chap has
to do like the rest for peace sake."
This was all Bob said, but his mother knew that her boy was having a
hard fight, and she took care that his struggle was not made harder
when he came home. The old shawl was put out of sight for a time, for
the boy had no need of this to remind him of what had taken place, and
since it had become a reproach to him, she resolved that he should not
see it more than she could help.
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